


Hold me tight, save from cold

by singingdevil



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Sickfic, i don't even know how to tag anymore, it's kinda shippy but aside from the leopika you can read it as gen, it's shippy just bc i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 10:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12703296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingdevil/pseuds/singingdevil
Summary: "All the numbness disappears, however, the second Gon takes a poke at the tissue near the wound itself. His touch is painful, like freezing fire, burning ice, and Killua chokes back a scream."There are things Killua's body is immune to. It's a long list, but some things are still not on it.





	Hold me tight, save from cold

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while (again) since I last published something. I'm sorry I'm so bad at this. The ending of this fic is super rushed because I've been working on this for fucking ever and I just wanted to finish it but I hope you still enjoy it.
> 
> It's some weird futureverse and I don't know, I just wrote. Let's say they're in their late teens maybe.
> 
> This isn't proofread so please let me know if/when you find something that needs correcting!

Killua stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He can’t believe this, just can’t, this isn’t supposed to happen. He’s a trained assassin, immune to most poisons in the world and able to withstand most of the torture methods known to man. He can work with broken bones and pierced limbs, hell, he can do his job with his arm hanging from his shoulder by little more than a strip of skin (very unpleasant and painful, yes, but he can complete a job). He hasn’t been sick since he was two years old. **  
**

Now, though, there’s a flush on his pale cheeks, and this isn’t the type he has when Gon tells him he’s cute or that he wants to introduce him to Ging. This is the kind that has his head swimming full of cotton and eyelids drooping. His stomach is in knots and it’s three in the morning and Gon is sleeping behind the wall to his right in the large double bed. His throat feels funny and his neck feels like he’s been sleeping in a wrong position for hours and hours straight, unmoving, but he  _hasn’t_ , he hasn’t slept all night and it honestly scares him. He’s not used to this, and this is not exciting unfamiliar like the hunter exam was, no, this is his own weapon of a body doing something it isn’t supposed to do and he’s terrified. He’s considered waking Gon up, too, but it’s better if even one of them gets a decent amount of sleep.

The only reason he’s not completely panicking is because he’s seen this - sick people - before. He doesn’t remember any of his family members ever being ill, but he can easily enough recall Leorio standing by Kurapika’s bedside after the whole Phantom Troupe thing in Yorknew City. He remembers the shadows under brown eyes, sheen of sweat on pale skin and Leorio carefully setting a damp cloth onto his forehead.

Killua is exhausted. He stares at his reflection in the mirror and it stares back, eyes glassy and the lack of color on his face matching his hair even better than usually. Under his eyes there are dark circles that blend into the flush on his cheeks.

He looks so much less miserable than he feels.

It takes him a second to realize that his vision is starting to distort. It takes him another second to react, and by then it’s too late - his knees buckle under him and black spots cloud his eyes. The barely-there effort he puts into remaining upright doesn’t pay off and he crashes onto the floor, unable to control his fall like he’s used to. His head hits something and the black spots get stars to keep them company for a moment. There’s pain, nothing he can’t handle but pain regardless, and then footsteps hurrying to the bathroom. Gon’s bare feet against the tiled floor sound louder than they probably are and there’s a weird echo to his voice as he shouts Killua’s name. Warm hands - always warm, Gon is always warm - lift him from his sprawled position on the floor so that his head in resting in Gon’s lap.

Gon’s voice is rambling are-you-okays and what-happeneds and why-didn’t-you-tell-mes at a rapid pace, barely giving Killua enough time to process the questions. The second he manages to make out what he was asked Gon is already going with the next, and Killua’s head feels lead-heavy and feather-light at the same time and he doesn’t want to do this. He squeezes his eyes shut against the bright lights of the bathroom.

Killua feels a hand on his forehead and realizes that the rambling has stopped. He forces his eyes open and finds himself staring right at Gon’s. His hair is a mess and there’s an awfully worried look in his eyes. For a second Killua thinks Gon looks surprisingly alert, but he shakes the thought almost immediately - it would be ridiculous for either of them look sleepy three seconds after a surprise wake-up call.

“Killua, you have a fever,” Gon tells him, as if he hadn’t already come to that conclusion. “Why didn’t you wake me up? How long have you been sick?” There’s a demanding tone to his voice, the kind there is when Gon  _needs_ to know instead of just wanting. A little more panicking and it would sound exactly like his demand for Kite’s whereabouts all that time ago.

Killua opens his mouth to answer but only air comes out. It quickly turns into awful, dry coughs, every breath triggering a few new ones and his chest burns. It takes Gon barely a second to turn him on his side, hand resting on his upper back. His throat and chest are both on fire and the whole thing feels to just go on and on and  _on_ until he can finally draw a decent breath again. Gon is rubbing his back behind his lungs.

“‘m not supposed to be sick,” Killua rasps, voice rough and barely audible. Gon tilts his head and blinks in confusion.

“What do you mean not supposed to? People get sick all the time, Killua!” Gon’s brows furrow like he’s trying to think about something. Killua props himself on his elbow to get even a little bit off the floor so he can look at Gon better.

“Gon, I haven’t been sick since I was a toddler. I’m immune to basically everything.” His arm is trembling under him, bad, like his legs were when he first recognized Illumi at the hunter exam. He hates it. He’s afraid. He wants it to stop, all of it, from the fuzzy feeling in his head to the pain in his neck and the sudden lack of physical control, he wants it all to just stop and go away. Taking a deep breath, Killua closes his eyes against the spinning world and lowers himself back to the floor. He doesn’t crash-land, thank heavens.

And now Gon is scared, too,  _great fucking job, Killua_ , he thinks to himself as Gon’s suddenly tightened voice asks him if he got hurt in the fight they had yesterday against these three guys and a kid, a frigging  _child_. Killua is  _so done_  with children on the battlefield. He’s been there himself and it  _sucks_.

It takes Killua a second to come up with a reason for Gon to be asking that, because getting injured shouldn’t have anything to do with his current condition, until he remembers the shocked look on one guy’s face after he got his ankle pierced by some kind of a needle-weapon-thing. At the time he’d thought it could have been because of a mistake in the location of the hit, but now he’s starting to realize; he didn’t die immediately. The logical conclusion is that the needle was laced with some kind of a deadly poison, but somehow it’s still  _affecting_ him.

Lethargically, Killua lifts his leg so that Gon can take a look at his bandaged ankle. He’s tired and there’s a vague feeling of his insides burning and his muscles hurt like they used to when he was six and making his way up the Heavens Arena and it’s absolutely  _ridiculous_ how he’s remembering things like this right now.

Gon unwraps his foot gently like only he can, careful not to hurt him. It’s clear he’s worried, but he keeps his hands steady as the bandages fall to the tiled floor.

Killua knows he cleaned the wound thoroughly. He’s a professional and he knows how to take care of his physical health. Now, though, from what he can see, the area around it looks swollen and red. It doesn’t hurt - in fact, he can barely feel the whole foot. Killua wonders when that happened, since he’s pretty sure he could still feel it when he came to the bathroom earlier.

All the numbness disappears, however, the second Gon takes a poke at the tissue near the wound itself. His touch is painful, like freezing fire, burning ice, and Killua chokes back a scream. His body jerks and he instinctively tries to pull his foot back from Gon’s grip, away from the pain. A voice at the back of his skull is telling him that he’s endured much,  _much_ worse in the hands of his family but it doesn’t seem to matter. Gon’s hands are strong, thankfully, and used to holding flailing limbs in place thanks to his experience with injured animals. It’s not something Killua likes to think of himself as, but it’s not like his brain is allowing him to think of anything else, either.

Gon hushes him quietly, keen eyes still observing the obvious infection as his other hand reaches for Killua’s. He squeezes his fingers, offering reassurance, but it does very little to actually help. Killua tries to squeeze back, but even his fingers won’t move on command as they should. He’s cold, colder than he should and Gon is wearing just as little clothing as he is and it’s pretty clear Gon isn’t cold.  _Not fair_ , Killua thinks. His ankle hurts.

Gon looks at the injury from all sides, twisting Killua’s ankle as gently as he can, until he finally sets the foot down.

“Killua, let’s get you back to bed, yeah? I’m gonna go call Leorio real quick,” Gon tells as he gathers Killua up from the floor. Killua is trying his best to stand up, is trying his best to remain upright and even take a few steps, but he ends up being practically carried by Gon as his knees refuse to support him. He’s cold, but the blankets feel suffocating and he still feels overall a lot worse than he can remember ever feeling.

Every second seems to make him feel exponentially worse than before. He can hear blood rushing in his ears in a deafening volume and the churning of his insides is getting worse and he’s still getting colder, which probably means that his fever is still rising. Gon is on the phone with Leorio, his tone frantic and worried and his words incomprehensible through the noise in Killua’s head.

Before he knows it, there’s a hand shaking his shoulder. He doesn’t know when that happened, because he’s sure Gon was just talking on the phone. Large, brown eyes stare into blue, worried.

“Leorio said he’s coming over right now,” Gon tells, words spilling out of his mouth rapidly, almost like he’s afraid Killua will slip away before he manages to finish his sentence. And maybe his fear isn’t irrational, at least not completely, because Killua can  _feel_ his consciousness fading in and out, and out seems to be winning.

“He’s just a few towns over,” Gon continues, trying to push some reassurance into his voice, “and he said Kurapika is driving, so they’ll be here in no time.” If the reassurance is for Killua or himself, that Gon isn’t certain of. Maybe both, maybe neither, perhaps just the other. It is there, though, and that’s what Killua clings to, the attempted shred of hope Gon seems to have in this  _thing_ ending up okay.

Gon climbs to the bed and gets behind Killua, pressing his face into soft whiteness as his arms wrap around Killua’s torso.

“You’re shivering,” he whispers into Killua’s hair. He pulls Killua’s body closer, shivering back against strong chest, as Killua nods shakily.

“Cold,” he whispers. Killua lets his eyes flutter shut - his eyelids feel heavy, or maybe it’s his lashes that are pulling them down. He feels like he’s freezing, but Gon’s touch is like fire against his skin. He thinks he can hear his own breathing. He’s not quite sure, though, since if anything, the blood rushing through his veins sounds even louder than before.

Gon’s hand moves to his forehead, and for a moment Killua can feel Gon’s arms tensing.

“Killua, you’re burning up,” Gon tells. “Even worse than before.” He pulls Killua closer, like he’s trying to protect him from something, or someone.

Gon slides his hand into Killua’s hair before promptly getting up, almost jumping off the bed. The sudden absence of warmth makes Killua shiver, but mostly it just makes his head heavier than it already was, sends his vision into a spinning motion and throws him off balance even lying down. He grits his teeth to prevent them from clattering and curls up. He doesn’t have the energy to search for a blanket, even though he knows there are two of them in the bed. His fingers feel icy against his biceps.

He’s slipping again, he knows that, but keeping his eyes open and mind focused on something requires energy his brain isn’t willing to produce. Killua nearly misses the fact that Gon has appeared next to him again.

“We need to get your fever down, Killua,” Gon whispers, hand reaching for Killua’s hair. “So you’re gonna take a bath before Leorio and Kurapika get here, yeah?”

The following moments are, in Killua’s head, nothing but haze and coldness. There’s a series of events starting from somehow getting out of bed, then he’s suddenly freezing even worse than before, ice cold water surrounding him even though it’s actually probably lukewarm, a soft towel, Gon yelling, familiar voices. Everything goes by fast, throws his thoughts into a whirlwind of confusion and exhaustion and general haze of not being able to distinguish what’s happening around him.

At some point, he finally passes out.

When he comes to, an indefinite amount of indefinite measures of time later, head throbbing and lungs fighting against breathing, there’s a pair of storm gray eyes observing him from behind a curtain of blond hair. Kurapika has a book in his hand and there are dark circles under his eyes, making Killua wonder if he’s been out for longer than a few hours. Or maybe it’s Leorio’s fault, who knows.

“Good to see you awake, Killua,” Kurapika smiles, setting his book down and standing up gracefully, as he usually does. “How are you feeling?”

Killua turns his eyes to the ceiling, taking a second to assess what his body is doing. He feels exhausted, at least that’s for sure, and it feels like there’s a heavy weight sitting on his chest. His muscles ache all over, especially, well, everywhere, and his head is pulsating along to his heartbeat.

But he isn’t burning and freezing anymore, and the world has stopped spinning even when he moves his head.

“Better,” he whispers in conclusion. Apparently, his throat is still not working. He turns his gaze back to Kurapika, who has moved to stand next to the bed. “What happened?”

Now it’s Kurapika’s turn to look away. His eyes seem to find the bathroom door, behind which Killua can faintly hear water running. He assumes it’s probably Leorio taking a shower. He briefly wonders where Gon might be.

“It appears you were poisoned,” Kurapika answers, not taking his eyes off the door. “I don’t think you would have died, but you’d be in a lot more agony if Gon hadn’t called us.” The water stops running. It takes a few moments for Leorio to emerge from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. From what Killua can see, he looks quite exhausted, too.

“And I say it’s a miracle you’re still alive,” Leorio says, apparently having heard what Kurapika said. “I hate to say it, kid, but you gotta thank that screwed-up family of yours. If you weren’t immune to most poisons, you’d have died when that happened.” He points at Killua’s tightly bandaged ankle. “Thank your maker that we weren’t in another country,” Leorio finishes, and moves to press a quick kiss to Kurapika’s lips.

Killua can feel his eyelids sliding shut, heavy as if weighed down by something. He still has questions to ask, like where Gon is, what’s going to happen next, why are Kurapika and Leorio always inclined to act so disgusting around other people. But Gon, Gon isn’t here even though he was earlier, and Killua has known for a long time that Gon does stupid things and makes stupid decisions and suddenly he’s scared, terrified, that Gon has gone off to do something profoundly idiotic.

Killua forces his eyes open and tries to sit up. His arms feel like jelly and his surroundings are spinning  _again_ , but he makes it to the edge of the bed before there’s a hand on his chest, pale fingers pressing him back and a soft voice telling him that he needs to rest, asking him what’s wrong and the next second yelling for Leorio.

He tries to fight it, but he’s too exhausted to stay upright when Leorio rushes from the other end of the room to prevent him from getting up, he succumbs to his fate of lying down for the time being.

XxX

Kurapika sighs in relief when Killua settles down and doesn’t try to sit up again. His breathing is labored and sounds overall just very difficult, and there’s a new sheen of sweat on his pale face. Leorio moves back to the side of the room where he just ran from to put on a shirt - something that he didn’t quite have the time to do earlier before Killua tried, for some godforsaken reason, sit up right after nearly dying.

Not that there’s anything new in that.

“Killua,” he starts softly. “What’s wrong, aside from the obvious?” Sometimes he just doesn’t understand either of the kids.

Killua peers at him, his eyes barely open. “Gon,” he manages to mumble, or groan, or whatever. It takes Kurapika a second to realize what Killua is trying to get to, until it dawns upon him that Gon indeed is not in the room. He can understand Killua’s distress concerning the topic, though. Kurapika allows him a soft smile.

“Where he is?” he asks, still, to confirm that he really got the question. When Killua provides him with a grunt that could be taken as an affirmation, Kurapika sets his hand to Killua’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about him, Killua. He just went for a supply run, since we didn’t have time to grab everything when we left. He should be back soon,” he reassures him. Killua seems to be okay with his explanation, because he stops fighting his exhaustion.

Killua falls asleep fast and Leorio takes over the watch, allowing Kurapika some sleep himself.

XxX

When Killua wakes up the next time, there’s sunlight filtering through the blinds. He still doesn’t know what day or time it is, but there’s definite warmth around him. He opens his eyes to see tan, muscular arms embracing him, and when he turns his head, he meets hazel eyes.

“Good morning, Killua,” Gon whispers into his ear, the smile on his face reflecting relief, and Killua allows the corner of his mouth to curl up.

**Author's Note:**

> Something happened and I have no idea what but hey, feedback maybe? Because we writers are suckers for feedback.


End file.
